


What's in a name?

by darkagechan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ackersiblings, Family, Gen, Kuchelweek, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Swearing, not really heavy tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24254539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkagechan/pseuds/darkagechan
Summary: "What’s in a name? That whichwe call a rose,By any other name would smellas sweet."Little Kuchel gets to know what's in her name.For Kuchelweek on tumblr
Relationships: Grandfather Ackerman & Kenny Ackerman & Kuchel Ackerman, Grandfather Ackerman & Kuchel Ackerman, Kenny Ackerman & Kuchel Ackerman, Kuchel Ackerman & Levi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	What's in a name?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This is my entry for the Kuchelweek on tumblr, and I mixed two days (well, I tried lol):
> 
> Day 3: strength✓/siblings✓  
> Day 5: hair×/lineage✓
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this!
> 
> (Quote at the beginning is from William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet", Act II, Scene II)

Whoever walked by that little house, adorned only by a small garden - which was made up, for the larger part, of grass rather than pretty, delicate, perfumed flowers - would have never imagined the importance that was once associated with the name of the owner.  
Ironically, the negligible size of the property could be considered inversely balanced to the old-days grandeur.

Not that any of these trivial, boring, historical things could matter to a pair of young, unstoppable, tireless, trouble maker siblings. 

For more reference, see: Kenny and Kuchel. 

As he watched the kids devastating, for the hundredth time that week, the small flowerbed in the middle of the backyard, their old grandfather wasn't really shocked, nor disappointed, by the total lack of manners Kenny had always showed ever since he started breathing, but rather by the fact Kuchel seemed to be growing into an even more explosive little human being (which was proved, in the elder's opinion, when the cute girl eradicated, with the strength of an adult man and the sadistic joy of the cruelest executioner, a thick bush of ivy that covered almost completely the feet of their spruce).

Well, at least the little rascals had crushed on the old daffodils, and their last blossom happened years before, so they were indeed dead. Not a great loss. For once. 

After scaring some other chickens and getting even dirtier than what they already were, the old man finally decided it was enough for today, and that dinner had to be served, so he called the kids in.

"Fuck, old man! It's still early! I gotta cut Mr Karl's fucking throat, that fucking beast fucking pecked at my hand again! I won't let him fuck away this time! Shit!"

"What an adorable grandson..."

"WHAT DID YA SAID OL FART?!"

Oh, there the kid passed the limit.  
Mr. Ackerman could bear hearing his grandson running, soiling, yelling, swearing all day but not against him. Oh no, he still had a sort of knight honour to keep high, and his naughty grandson would have sooner regretted his rough words.

A deep, firm angry voice invaded the garden, freezing all the forms of life and their natural activities; grandkids included.

Two words, stronger than one hundred soldiers army.

"KENNY. ACKERMAN." 

The culprit knew it was over.

"Uhm so, what's for dinner grandpa? I'm soooo hungry! C'mon Kuchel, don't make grandpa angry!"

As the kids immediately came inside, making particular attention not to spread mug and dirty from their clothes, the grandfather could state he was definitely satisfied of his... how could he say... power to intimidate? Inspire immediate obedience? Establish his strength? His father once told him it was a capability proper of their clan, to have the physical and mental strength of one hundred soldiers or even more and bla bla bla, but he had long decided to give up using that quirk which came with genetic. Except when he had to calm down his two little volcanos.

(Though, he used this technique way more often with Kenny than Kuchel; not because the younger lacked spirit and force, but she simply was quicker at understanding that once fun is over, it's over)

Speaking of the little lady, the old man had noticed how weird she reacted everytime he called either her or her brother by their full names. As if hearing their surname sounded strange to Kuchel.

Was it curiosity towards a name they were told not to divulgate with strangers? Or was it fear, due to this same order?  
Considering the kids were growing, and he was aging, Mr. Ackerman decided that maybe it was time to (at least) start explaining something to the siblings, but not too much. 

The grandfather approached Kuchel, who was going to sit down around the table (after properly washing her little hands, of course), and put a hand on her head, caressing it. He then spoke, voice firm but sweet.

"What troubles you, Kuchel? Wanna tell your grandpa?"

After a moment of hesitation, Kuchel looked up to her grandfather, and her gaze surprised him.

It was the same as his own father, when he told him of the power and fame their family once held, of battles and duels fought for the King's sake, side by side; actions of bravery, legendary to the eyes of his young self - and indeed legends they became, after Karl fucking Fritz decided to oppress the Ackerman. Eyes full of badly-hidden pride, resolution, grey like the swords and shields their ancestors used to hold against their enemies. 

But Mr. Ackerman knew that too much information would have only hurt Kuchel, putting her at a risk too big, even for a little girl who already showed a strong soul at such a young age. So, to whatever Kuchel was going to ask, the old man decided he would have either given the most little detail, or none. 

"Grandpa, what's in our name?"

A direct blow, uh.  
He thought briefly about the right words, medidating carefully.  
Then he found an answer, that could both satisfy her curiosity and at the same time keep her safe. 

"In our name, there's history, the history of our lineage. Facts happened way, way, way before your old grandpa was even born. But you don't have to worry about your name, my little girl: you can be who you want, do what you like, live where you prefer, and love who you desire. Your name won't matter, because even if it was a different name, you'd still be yourself. That's why it's useless to share our name! Who cares about it anyway?"

Mr. Ackerman's old heart ached but, knowing his answer was a partial lie: his grandkids would have never experienced the full freedom the other, normal people could have.

(If it was really freedom living in such a world)

But Kuchel didn't know, she was too young, and she smiled at her grandpa's words, feeling somehow reassured and happy.

That little warm smile was going to make him cry, the old man was feeling the tears starting to create already. His grandkids' happiness and safety came before everything else, who really cared about the lineage and their history. 

Luckily, just before the old man could start crying, Kenny invaded the small kitchen, screaming and cursing as he was chased by Mr. Karl and some other angry chickens the kid previously hit and annoyed.

"FUCK YOU MR. KARL!!!"

Mr. Ackerman, admiring the scene and delighted by Kuchel's little adorable laugh, laughed to himself as well and muttered under his breath:

"Indeed, fuck you Karl!"

§§§

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

Kuchel turned to her son, her little angel, Levi, leaving the preparations for their poor dinner. Her life was hard and miserable, but Levi was her ray of light, so shiny to pierce through the dark Underground city.

"What's up sweetie? Tell mom everything!"

"The men who come to you all have two names mommy. Why do we only have one? Are we...worse? What's in their names?"

The young woman was immediately reminded of when, a life ago, she herself had made an identical question to her grandfather (sometimes she still thought about him, and about her savage brother...what was of them?).  
Her grandpa promised her that her name didn't matter, that she woud have lived the life she chose and wanted; it didn't turn out to be like this, but Kuchel refused to let her sadness and melancholy pass to her son: he had known since birth hunger, starving, fear and dirt, he didn't deserve any more bad things.

So, Kuchel decided to lie and protect Levi just like her old man tried to do with her.  
She had to keep her little treasure safe, she sweared to herself the day she found out she was pregnant: a sudden revelation, a strong feeling of protection, the need to care for that little being yet to become a human.

As if all her strenght converged to that one mission, as if her body knew what to do. Kuchel knew what to do, and decided to change a bit the answer her grandpa gave to her that day, because in the end, what does it matter about a name?

Who knows if Levi's life wouldn't have got better, one day?

"Levi, my sweetie, who cares? A name is a name, and you'll still be yourself, no matter what name you'll have. We are no less than those nasty men, just because we have only one name! Indeed, we are better, because we can live without shouting our name to get what we want! You are Levi, even if I decided to call you... let's say... Shirley!"

"But mom! Shirley is a girl name!!" 

Kuchel laughed, absolutely in love with the little pouty face Levi made at her joke. The kid was really her saviour.

"But you'd still be a strong handsome boy, wouldn't you?"

"Fuck, yes!"

"WHERE DID THAT CAME FROM LEVI?!"

She was about to give her son a short, but strict, lecture on the rudeness of swearing, but Levi's little pleading eyes won over her.  
Just like every other time she had tried to scold him, so she simply gave up.

(And anyway, deep down, Kuchel had some theory for where the bad word came from...was cursing transmitted from uncle to nephew?)

Her Levi would still be her Levi, even if he used to say some bad word from time to time.

Words, and names didn't matter, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the chicken Karl is named after Karl Fritz, a silly way to mock the king who ruined the Ackermans' lives - a little idea of Mr. Ackerman (and a funny headcanon of mine).  
> At the end, that chicken became roast, of course. Not with a very good taste though XD
> 
> My tumblr blogs:
> 
> Kenny Ackerman blog: [reblog-your-kenny](https://reblog-your-kenny.tumblr.com)
> 
> Main blog: [the-not-so-dark-age](https://the-not-so-dark-age.tumblr.com)


End file.
